


Of Bites and Men

by HeavenlyHell



Category: Marvel
Genre: AU, Because I'm a sucker for that, Kinda, M/M, My First Spideypool Fic, Peter Parker Acts Like a Spider, Peter has mandibles, Pining, Protective Wade Wilson, Spideypool - Freeform, They're on an island, also donuts, pokey pokey teeth, we love donuts here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 05:37:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18230633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeavenlyHell/pseuds/HeavenlyHell
Summary: Wade immediately shut up as the thing stepped out from the safety of trees. It was a boy. Wade’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Translucent skin glowed, painfully beautiful under the open moonlight. It pulled taught against lean muscle, and Wade could swear this thing was made of marble, if it wasn’t for the fluffy mop of brown hair that sat wildly on top of the boy’s head. Expressive brown eyes bore into Wade’s masked ones before scanning the rest of his body. He wore a thin, veil-y fabric like a toga, and Deadpool had no doubt it was made of spider silk. It wrapped sensually around his body, and with the way the boy moved, Wade had a hard time discerning where silky fabric ended and silkyboybegan.-------------------In which Wade is playing chaperone for two suspicious scientists and Peter is the fantastical, elusive creature they're looking for.





	Of Bites and Men

**Author's Note:**

> wheeeeeeww  
> Oops.  
> I've had this one under wraps for like, half a year, because I genuinely didn't know if I was ever gonna make a second chapter. In fact, I _still_ don't know. That being said, I'm open to suggestions!  
> My first spideypool, ooh. Exciting!  
> Also sorry for totally ditching that tomco piece. I had a second chapter written, but it completely disappeared (back up your files, kids) and I don't have the heart to re-write it. Thank god Google Docs is a thing now.

Peter lifted his head, arms tightening around his knees. The air was starting to get colder, he noticed. He suppressed a shiver, eyes squinting in the darkness. Not that he needed to squint to see- in fact, he didn’t even need to _look_ to see. He just needed to focus.

And he did. He felt a small, slight twinge, and jumped down onto a rock to feel it better. Laying his hands flat on cold stone, he took a deep breath.

A disturbance.

He glanced west, moonlight trickling it’s way down to his skin, barely cutting through the canopy. The rippling became stronger, consistent, and he recognized it as waves. Water, moving irregularly, lapping up against the shoreline as something moved, displacing. He listened. Creaking, splashing- a boat.

Peter felt his blood run cold, mandibles absent-mindedly unhinging outwards as he began to produce venom in subconscious defense. A boat could only mean people, and that also meant trouble. Quickly, he debated whether or not he should investigate or just hide it out, but the rippling was strong, meaning whatever was on the boat was a heavy load. Cargo or not, Peter couldn’t risk not having the upperhand and be oblivious to the contents of the ship. Steeling himself, he skittered along the forest floor, sliding between rocks and fallen debris. As trees made themselves slightly more scarce, leaving way to loose- and noisy- rocks, he leapt up into the canopy, swinging, trading off from vines and silk. He made sure to leave his traces up, high, and invisible, relying on the resounding hum of nature’s night to cover his slight rustling. He reached a clearing and perched, high on the canopy, flat against the rough bark of a tree that hung domineeringly against the openness of the beach.

Glancing to the water, his suspicions were confirmed. A boat.

It was fairly small, and looked quite ridiculous as there were three people squashed into its body. They seemed apprehensive, silent, taking in the sight of the island. Peter knew they couldn’t see him, but tensed nonetheless, wrapping himself even tighter against the large branch.

Once they got close to shore, a man- larger and way more built than the other two- jumped out, boots splashing in the water. Peter felt his claws hitch deeper into the tree. This man pulled the nose of the small craft, dragging it up against the rocky shore, wood on stone scraping in a way that made Peter’s bones feel uncomfortable in his skin. The man stopped, standing up straight once more. Unobstructed, Peter could easily make him out in the gentle moonlight- tall, broad shouldered. Body littered with small pouches and strange metal contraptions, covered in a suit that- Peter, lifting his head slightly to scent it- was made of kevlar and leather, although heavily reeked of tell-tale long time use and something deep, smokey, and dangerous.

“Well, boys!” The man suddenly boomed, jarring Peter and, surprisingly, the other two men who were making their way off the boat. “We’re here! Welcome to this fucking island! Would you guys like me to direct you to one of the thousand others? Y’know, ones that aren’t so dang near _impossible_ to find?”

The two men glared at the masked man, although seemingly very nervous. “We assure you, Deadpool, that you will be paid infinitely well for this. We just need to see if this island really has _it._ ” the taller one said, voice thick with an accent and posh attitude.

The buff man, Deadpool, shuffled, hands raising to rest on his hips. “Yeah, and I’m getting a little suspicious here. It’s a lot of fucking money- are you _sure_ you guys are totally fine with paying that sum on the mere _chance_ that whatever the hell you’re looking for will be here?”

“In the chance that it _is_ here,” the shortest of the three, an angry looking man, spoke. “We’ll need all the services you provide to its full capabilities.”

Deadpool snorted. “Yeah, I’ll show you service.” The two men tensed as the suited man took a step towards them, but instead of reaching for them, made his way to start pulling out the contents of the small boat. Grumbling, the other two helped, unloading and setting everything on the shore, creating a makeshift camp.

Peter assessed the situation. The only person who seemed to hold an actual threat was the masked man, Deadpool. He moved with a predatory prowl that made Peter’s hair stand on end. But much to Peter’s surprise, despite the strange and intimidating grace the larger man held, it was the other two gangly humans that spiked Peter’s Spider Sense.

Peter whiffed, felt and listened, trying to take note of all the items the men seemed to be unloading onto the beach. Sharp metallic scents, all foreign, all horribly bitter compared to the much softer and earthy tone his forest held.

The masked man stopped suddenly and turned to the forest, eyes almost falling immediately on the tree Peter had perched himself on and Peter felt his blood run cold.

“What’s wrong?” The taller one quipped, voice betraying a smidgen of fear.

Deadpool was silent for a beat, eyes scanning more furiously, leaving the tree to search through the brush more thoroughly. Peter felt his mandibles loosen in relief.

“Nothing,” Deadpool panned shortly, returning to his work.

Peter didn’t like this, not one bit.

He crept silently around the tree and delicately traversed branch by branch, and didn’t hop down to the floor until the sound of strangers blended into the familiar noise of the forest around him.

* * *

 

Much to Peter’s dismay, the men seemed to have wandered into the forest a bit more. Peter found himself back on the same shoreline the following night; the men were long gone, equipment and everything, save the lone boat that sat solitary on the rocks. Peter walked up to the small craft, knowing that, by the small vibrations in the forest, the strangers must be at least a mile inland. He flitted his fingertips lightly along the lip of the boat, catching slightly on its ragged and broken edge. A part of him wanted to smash it, just to spite those humans, but decided against in for the off case that they decided to go back wherever they came from. He clambered in, curiously planting his feet on the still damp bottom. It was a grainy and uncomfortable feeling against his bare skin, and Peter wondered how long those men were sea-bound. His foot clattered against something that rolled along the curve of the hull, and bending down to observe it, he saw that it was a small, stiff leather pouch with a small handle. He picked it up gingerly between his fingers, and the leather pouch slipped away, revealing a silver blade. Peter cocked his head. It was metallic, and the handle was worn, but the edge itself was well-kept, and Peter brought his hand up to cup the irresistibly shiny metal. It sliced his palm easily, but he paid it no mind in favor of turning it around in his hand.

It wasn’t that much unlike his own daggers, but his were all made of stone and not nearly as beautiful as this. Excitedly, he wrapped it in his firmer silk in a fine cocoon, leaving the leather sheath on the floor of the boat before holding it in his mouth, using his mandibles to grip it firmly to his face.

He glanced to the forest again, stepping out of the craft. It barely creaked against the delicate movement. He glanced nervously to where the strangers had obviously cut through the forest. The night barely began, and no doubt that those humans should just be about asleep right now. He wanted to know what they were up to.

Mandibles clenching, he darted into the shadows once more, opting to use vines to swing instead of his webs (he didn’t want to leave evidence behind) and followed the trail of humans into the forest.

After 15 minutes of constantly battling internally on whether or not he really wanted to see human camps again, he spotted a flicker in the distance. He slowed immensely, not wanting to risk the chance of being heard. It was clear that the people had set up camp against a wall of rock, tents and strange machines surrounding a dying fire. Peter reached the far end of camp, observing the various objects that littered the table. There was a surprising amount of stuff, seeing as the boat itself was rather small, and some of the strange, heavy objects flickered with lights and were filled with awful smelling substances. They were all terribly interesting, and Peter thought about taking all he could carry back to his burrow for thorough examination, but they were all attached somehow by wires. How annoying.

He glanced towards the fire as it flickered, and a quiet hiss left involuntarily between his clenched teeth. He _hated_ fire. It was scary and destructive (Peter’s lived through enough lighting storms to know how damaging untamed flame could be,) despite how much Peter longed for the warmth that came with it.

Then something else caught his eye. In the dying light, something glinted, reflecting the flame. He was tempted to go closer and get a better look, but the fire was uncomfortably close to the tents that held an unbearingly annoying snore.

The thing glinted again and Peter decided, _fuck it,_ he could just listen to whether or not the humans inside woke up. He skittered to the shiny object, making a wide berth around the fire. He saw that there lay two other blades propped against a rock. Except they were much, much longer than the dagger Peter currently carried in his maw. The shine was unbearingly beautiful, and if Peter blocked the faint fire light, he could see them magically glint in the barely passing moonlight.

Peter got shivers looking at them.

He chittered excitedly- two amazing finds in a day? Despite his resentment to humans on the island, he couldn’t resist the pull that drew him to their technology. His daggers could _never_ reach this length; they would always be susceptible to breaking against the slightest pressure. He reached out to the handle of one of them, wrapped intricately with smooth leather, when he jarringly felt a spike of energy jolt up his spine.

He jumped immediately to the rocky overhang, and the long blade fell with a slight clatter to the forest floor.

Not two seconds later, a blip resounded and the man- _Deadpool_ \- appeared out of thin air, sighing and muttering to himself. Peter barely sucked in a breath, startled out of his wits. _What the heck this man just-_  “I thought I left it on the ship…” the man grumbled, interrupting Peter’s thoughts. A pause. Peter pressed himself farther away from the edge, scared to take a step in the fear of making noise. “Yeah, but why would I just bring the sheath? I know I have plenty of others, but man, I liked that one…”

His voice trailed off and Peter risked a second glance over the lip of hanging rock. Deadpool stood, staring at the blade that rested on the floor. Peter silently cursed himself. _You just had to like shiny things, huh?_

The masked man bent down to pick up the sword. He examined it, and as several moments passed, Peter held his breath. Finally, Deadpool shuffled it in his hands and shrugged. He grabbed its twin on the floor and slid them into sheaths that hung from his back, and Peter barely suppressed a sigh of relief.

The man turned around, grabbing thick logs and tossing it into the fire, and Peter took it as his chance to run away. He flung himself back to one of his many hidden entrances underground, wedging himself between a fallen tree and a dip in the earth, crawling through the small hole underneath, into a comforting tunnel of soft webbing. Reaching the center where his nest was, Peter changed the grip of his mandibles on the cocoon and easily sliced through the webbing covering the blade in his mouth and let it drop down to the padding of his nest. It cut lightly through the softest webbing before determinedly settling on his tougher, thicker layer of nest. Peter tested the blade against the webs more, and pleasedly found the dagger unable to cut through. He then placed it out on a smaller corner of his nest, where an abundance of small shiny items, books and other strange trinkets of passing humans were scattered decoratively. Content with its placement, Peter took off on a different tunnel in search of food.

* * *

 

Deadpool sighed, back pressing into the rock. He glared holes into the back of the two scientists hovering around the table as they muttered to each other. This job, although way above his pay grade, was shitty. He was bored out of his mind, and despite this not being his first chaperone gig, Wade decided it was probably a waste of money on those two dope-heads expense. Not that he could really complain- I mean, getting paid to go _camping?_ But the journey was long and tiring- he didn’t really do this _Running Wild_ shit, it wasn’t him. Screw anyone, despite how much he hated people, he was a city person. The long exposure to salt water was unbelievably irritating to his gruesome skin, and this island wasn’t exactly tropical and his shoes were undeniably wet all the time.

What were these weirdos even trying to accomplish? Something about observation and data, something about mutant, something about _spider-_ Wade was just hired to protect them. He probably should have listened more, but there was a lot of nerd droning he was the exact opposite of interested in hearing, so when the payment turned up to be a number with a whole lotta zeros in it, he said yes.

He sighed again, much louder this time, and the shorter scientist (Deadpool already forgot their names, so he’s just been dubbing them Ears and Gray. Besides, it would be too awkward to ask for names again- just kidding! Wade just couldn’t care less) peered over his shoulder, nervous and exasperated. “Is something wrong?”  Ears asked, eyes darting to the lip of the darkened forest.

“You guys have been going on with this for _hours,_ ” Wade drawled, and he wouldn’t be ashamed to admit he said it petulantly. “Don’t you guys have a bedtime, or something?”

The other guy, Grey, ignored his question and instead piped up with a quipped “Deadpool, please do a perimeter check.”

Deadpool raised his nonexistent eyebrow, watching as the two scientists continued to mutter amongst himself before shrugging and pushing himself of the rocks. It’s not like if they could kill him, and if it turns out they were planning against him, he could just unalive em. He decided to give them whatever space they wanted- if they were murdered in the forest, it just meant more food for him. Not that they could be mauled- as far as he learned from today, there was nothing extremely harmful in this forest, save for some mean boars and gnarly spiderwebs he had spotted in the trees. He got shivers, imagining whatever spider that had made those crawling along his body.

He decided to walk along the rock wall, humming to himself. Crickets seemed to hum around him, along with the natural sway of the forest. Just as he began to clumber over a set of fallen debris, something white snatched his boot and yanked his leg from under him. Cursing, he stumbled back, reaching for his katanas, but the same sticky substance attacked his arms and he suddenly felt himself suspended low in the air. He thrashed for a quick second, before realizing how useless that was. The strange ropes were pulled taught, and although they were slightly stretchy, seemed near impossible to break. Upon further inspection, he realized they were webs.

Deadpool’s eyes widened. Woah. Death by giant spider? _Sign me the fuck up!_ He thought. _Or it could be some silkworm,_ he pondered. Either way, Wade realized he was in danger.

Not that he could die, but whatever.

Hey, maybe this was the thing those fucking scientists were looking for?

Excited at the prospect that those scientists could find whatever animal they were looking for, do whatever scientists do nowadays and then haul ass, Deadpool scanned the forest eagerly.

The forest seemed to be continuously bare. He squinted, focusing a little harder, before realizing that the brushing of the trees was a little heavy. His eyes scanned the canopy above him. He still couldn’t really train his eyes anywhere because it was so dark, so he strained his ears harder.

He realized that whatever was moving in the trees was moving _with_ the trees.

It was copying the natural movement of the branches to get around.

Wow, this was _fucking cool._

Wade suddenly felt like he could relate to the scientists eagerness towards this creature. He could almost pop a boner for how fucking awesome this things hunting skills were, if he weren’t facing an immediate temporary unalive-ness. He thought in awe how he never even seen this thing coming.

Now that he recognized it’s pattern, his eyes returned to scanning the trees, and after several moments, his eyes caught something in the faint moonlight. Movement, slinking around, sizing Wade up. It moved lithely, gracefully, with powerful muscles on a small frame. Patches of faint skin appeared between branches of unbroken moonlight before it settled on the ground directly in front of him, just out of sight. His mind raced at what this creature could be. Webs, barely any fur, four limbs- no, Wade couldn’t possibly imagine what it was.

So instead he held a plated breath, feeling it’s eyes on him from just beyond the surrounding trees. “Hi,” he lamely attempted.

He was going to continue, but he saw the faint outline of its head (fluffy, Deadpool’s mind helpfully supplied) tilt slightly. He began to speak more, though he doubted that it could understand him. Talking was the only way he knew how to deal with being held hostage by an unknown species- heck, it was the only way he knew how to deal with anything. “So this is really cool. And I gotta admit, while I don't necessarily enjoy being tied up like this- only for the bedroom, you know? You probably don’t. You probably don’t even know what a bedroom is. Sucks, because let me tell you, bondage is really popular, and you probably could make a million bucks outta this stuff, because this thing is actually really neat, save the aspect that it most likely comes outta your ass which is not a lovely image anymore, seeing as you’re a lot bigger than the usual culprits of critters that do this kinda stuff, and _wow I really made myself uncomfortable with a closeup image of a bug spewing this stuff outta its-_ ”

Wade immediately shut up as the thing stepped out from the safety of trees. It was a boy. Wade’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Translucent skin glowed, painfully beautiful under the open moonlight. It pulled taught against lean muscle, and Wade could swear this thing was made of marble, if it wasn’t for the fluffy mop of brown hair that sat wildly on top of the boy’s head. Expressive brown eyes bore into Wade’s masked ones before scanning the rest of his body. He wore a thin, veil-y fabric like a toga, and Deadpool had no doubt it was made of silk. It wrapped sensually around his body, and with the way the boy moved, Wade had a hard time discerning where silky fabric ended and silky _boy_ began.

Wade gulped.

The thing cautiously took a step towards him, as if Wade could lash out. Which was impossible, seeing how Wade was tied up, but still. The boy’s features scrunched slightly in a warning snarl, a mystifying and alien hiss lilting the air  and Deadpool saw the boy flexing his long, thin fingers. They were black as soot, and ended with shiny, long claws. The boy’s snarl heightened as he continued to move forward and Wade watched with interest as the boy’s fangs started to hitch out of his mouth and- were those mandibles?!

_Undeniably the coolest fucking way to die._

The boy came cautiously to perch right in front of Wade, crouched low. Deadpool couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He was like an angel. A terrifying, pointy and deadly angel that was most likely going to attempt to kill him, but an angel nonetheless.

Then the thing bent down, and Wade was confused. Shouldn’t these things usually go for the throat or something? Maybe it had a thing for feet. His thoughts were cut off as he saw it nimbly use it’s fingers to brush away the bundle of sticks and straw- Deadpool mindlessly compared the boy’s handiwork as a spider winding a web- and revealed a small nest under the debris. There, two small eggs and one of the smallest birds Wade had ever seen rested. The only hatched one slept soundly, and Wade realized that the nest was in the very same place he was walking. He gazed wondrously at the boy who watched the nest with a gentle expression, fangs and snarl gone.

It was short-lived however, as the boy felt Deadpool’s gaze on himself. Unbelievably brown eyes regarded Wade, who had given up struggling entirely, for several moments. He then quickly covered the nest once more, gave Wade a once-over, and before Wade could even think, pounced on him, unhinging his mandibles and latching his fangs into his neck.

The last thing Wade heard before going under was the snipping of webs.

* * *

 

Peter was cursing himself internally. Of course he would put himself out in danger like that. Does Peter have even one ounce of self control? But those poor burrowing birds! ...It would have been easier if he just purposefully killed that man. But what if that man _was_ dead? Oh god, Peter didn’t know how much venom humans could stand, so he just money-shot it. He had intended to put enough poison in the man- Deadpool- system to knock him out long enough to cut the webbing and remove any traces of himself- and now he was stuck on the edge between hoping he hadn’t just accidentally murdered a man or worrying that this Deadpool person would go back to his duties and let the other humans know he was in this forest.

This was bad. Anxiously, Peter ran all the way back to his den and didn’t leave until the next dusk.

* * *

 

“And what did it sound like? Could it talk?” Ears yapped excitedly, shrill voice hurting Deadpool’s ears. Yeesh, is this what he sounded like?

“I told you, it just hissed at me,” Wade replied, clearing his ear with his pinky. Which was ridiculous, seeing as his mask was interrupting the action but Wade mostly did it for show. “And then it showed me the nest, bit me, untangled me and ran off.”

“So it didn’t want to eat you? Grey probed, writing on a clipboard in a breakneck pace with notes written in chicken scratch, and Wade silently wondered how the man would ever be able to read with that handwriting.

“Uh, I don’t think so? Aside from the slight poisoning, I don’t really think I had any of my guts sucked out of me.”

It was early the following morning, and Wade had just managed to get back into camp. He must’ve been out for a few hours, despite his healing powers. Which was impressive. That bite probably would’ve killed anyone else, but Wade doesn’t think that the boy wanted to kill him. Why kill something just to remove it from the web? And remove all traces of web at that. It was a strange and peculiar case.

“Wow, so I wonder what the means of that are?” Ears prompted his fellow scientist, “Do you think it’s a scaring tactic? Maybe it’s showing it’s dominance! I mean, if it looked human, perhaps it’s assuming that it needs to fend you off!”

“Perhaps!” Grey responded, “But ooh, I’d love to get a sample of that strong webbing! All that’s left around here is that loose debris, and they’ve been reduced to a regular spider’s web…”

The two droned on some more, constantly bugging Wade to repeat his story a gazillion times until he makes it clear that if they ask him one more time, he’ll end up kabobing them and leaving them to rot on the island.

The rest of the day finds Deadpool boredly hanging around the camp, the two scientists keeping to themselves and their machinery.

Wade can’t help but continue to think of those expressive brown eyes, wondering if he’d see them again once the sun set.

* * *

 

Ok, so maybe Peter really _was_ stupid.

Dusk had barely even broke, and yet here he was, pacing the earth just beyond sight of the edge of the cliff. Why was he back here? Especially at _dusk?_ Even if the sun was low enough to not hurt his sensitive eyes, it was still bright enough to risk being seen. Peter chastised himself. What was he even doing? Why did he even _care_ if that human was alive and safely in camp?

Peter certainly didn’t care to think that the body had been _dragged off_ by some wild boar. He didn’t care to think about what he would feel if he were to stumble upon a nest and see _human bones-_ he didn’t care.

His pacing came to a full stop as he stood pathetically, contemplating his choices. The humans were gone, their camp empty save for a select amount of that strange technology they used.

Peter placed a hand on the earth, taking a deep breath.

They were approximately 20 minutes away from camp, searching (for Peter, probably) which meant the spider had a lot of time to snoop around to figure if that strange man was still around. Quickly, he crawled over the edge of rock, creeping his way down before setting a tentative hand on the earth, ashen and cold pit of fire a few feet away. Taking another steadying breath, Peter landed so that he was crouched on all fours before slowly rising to his feet. He tiptoed graciously, passing the tents with ease (as much as Peter would _love_ to peek, he liked to think of himself as a polite man. Snooping in someone’s sleeping nest uninvited was absolutely barbaric!) and to the table. He notes with interest that the machines continued to beep, and papers were thrown around hazardly with only rocks to keep them in place. Curious, Peter clambered on the table, nimble toes and fingertips landing on smooth surfaces as he tried to orient himself in ways to make sense of the incessant writing.

Peter doesn’t know how he missed it, but the whirring of the machines under his toes and beeping in his ears was interrupted by the hard crunch of a shoe. Peter whipped his head around fiercely, his spidey sense twinging to alert him that he was not alone.

 _Yeah, some help you are,_ Peter thinks beratingly to himself, hair standing on edge.

It’s Deadpool, and he’s in the middle of cursing to himself, muttering about some darned ‘teleporter’ being busted. He stops abruptly once he sees Peter, crouching ridiculously on top of the table. His eyes widen comically through the mask and Peter hisses, laying himself low across the machinery and scrambles back to get off until his foot catches on something and he tumbles to the ground. Panicked, he looks at his ankle- a wire wraps constructively around it. Another snarl when he sees the human take a step towards him, and to his surprise, the man stops, hands raising in a placating gesture. Peter rakes his claws against the offending technology, but an uncomfortable shock runs through him, giving him a new wave of panic. Peter rolls and tries to yank himself away, but it only ends with a giant hunk of metal getting dragged off the table and landing harshly on the side of Peter’s leg, causing him to cry out.

“Hey hey, no, don’t do that!” Deadpool says, taking another step and immediately retreating once more when Peter bares his fangs. Peter has the underlying feeling that the action is made less out of fear than to make Peter feel more comfortable. He disregards it.

He tugs weakly once more, leg throbbing and eyes shifting nervously to the lip of the table where another piece of machinery inches closer to teetering off at the movement, the vexatious wire still taught and lost somewhere in the massive body of technology.

The man tries to take another step, and this time, Peter doesn’t hiss. Another. And another. Until he’s a few steps away from Peter’s sprawling figure, and he bends down. Peter offers a weak snarl that probably comes off as a whine more than anything.

“Hey now, none of that,” the man says, placatingly. “I’m going to help you, ok? I need to get close, I won’t hurt you.” He inches forward until his hands hover over Peter’s trapped leg. Peter lets his mandibles slide out and feels the venom coat the tips of his fangs generously to the point of dripping, the liquid copiously building in lieu of the stress he was currently feeling.

Deadpool stares at Peter, but refuses to make eye contact as if he were trying not to pose as a threat. His gaze lingers on the little fangs, and watches with interest as the translucent-red liquid pitters down from the tip to Peter’s chest. Peter shifts under the gaze, and Deadpool seems to lose whatever trance he’s in to observe the matter at hand.

Deadpool looks between the half-broken wire and semi-smashed machine on the ground. “Ooh, Ears and Grey are gonna kill me,” He mutters to himself, slowly wrapping one large hand around the lower part of Peter’s calf. The spider tenses, but the human moves on, pulling a little on the wire and watching the table as the machines shifted once more. Peter was ready to scramble when the block of technology closest to the edge teeters off, but the firm grasp on his leg keeps him in place and Peter watches in surprise as the human uses his shoulder and a _very well defined_ bicep to keep the piece from hitting Peter.

Deadpool  grumbles again, removing his hold briefly to unattach a wire, and Peter feels the tight dig of the coil on his leg loosen the slightest. He doesn’t dare move until the man uses his gloved warm hand to unwrap it completely, patting Peter gently on the side of his foot before he releases his hold.

Peter glances from his freed appendage, to the mess on the ground, to the masked man, and is shocked to see that the man is staring right back at him, but in the eyes this time.

Peter flips elegantly and promptly all but dashes to the stonewall, scaling the rock in a matter of seconds. At the top, he hesitates, turning around., and sees Deadpool, continuing to squat where Peter left him, masked eyes still following Peter. Peter thrums his fingers against the earth nervously, claws making light clicking noises as he contemplates the situation.

That man didn’t hurt him, despite having Peter in an easily containing situation. His leg throbbed as he thought and his fingers trail delicately down to where the man had touched him. That hand was so _warm._ Hesitantly, in a moment of pure decision, Peter let out a shy chitter in gratitude.

Deadpool seems to perk, leaning forward from his seating. He looks as if he’s about to say something, but Peter hears the voices of the other humans and dashes off, ducking between the shrubs of the forest.

“What happened?” A shrill voice screeches.

“Funny story,” the deep, baritone voice of Deadpool trails after, almost embarrassed, and Peter tunes it out in favor of taking to the trees, swinging to the other side of the forest in search of the hot springs he had discovered many years ago.

His leg was cold now, against the open air, and Peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t thinking about that hand.

* * *

 

“You should’ve just kept him there!”  Adrian Kirby (who Wade had dubbed Ears, haha, he finally remembered those fuckin names!) chastised, picking up one of the fallen sensors and placing it back on the table, fiddling with the wires. “Then we’d be able to see him.”

Deadpool replied incredulously. “And what, leave him to have a heart attack?! Poor thing was about to have a stroke just by seein’ me, I doubt he would appreciate being held captive!” He fidgeted with his holsters. He watched enough _Discovery_ to know that field study research was all about observation and the lack of external simulation, so what were these guy’s deal? It made him slightly uneasy that they were eager enough to see the thing that they’d purposefully have it put in a unfavorable situation. Wade wasn’t a saint, but he didn’t believe that spider kid had done anything to put it in a… cage?

Was that what this was?

He hadn’t heard about containment. Despite his lack of enthusiasm about this case early on, he certainly didn’t think these guys had said _anything_ about captivity. Again, Wade was no good guy, but he definitely had something against abduction, human or animal or _whatever_ that spider boy was. He eyed the strange devices on the table, an unsettling weight settling in his bones. What was going on?

“Why’re you guys so eager to get this guy anyways? I’m sure we’ll run into him again. No need to try to speed things up,” Deadpool muttered, watching as the two scientists continued to clear the mess.

Kirby and Jung (aka Grey, if you don’t recall) shared a look. “He’s an extremely rare creature, Deadpool,” Jung answered cautiously. Wade narrowed his eyes. “We just want to get as much detail on him as possible. Please excuse our enthusiasm, this is just the closest we’ve ever gotten to the subject.”

Deadpool huffed, arms crossing. “I forget how fucking eager you nerd types are when it comes to these kinds of things. Just don’t be annoying with it.”

He didn’t miss how their shoulders lose their tension. “Of course,” Kirby replied eagerly, and Wade continued to watch the two as the sun continued to set, uncomfortable weight still in his stomach.

**Author's Note:**

> here's a piece o'art I did back when this fic was just a theory.  
>   
> please please please comment! I love it sm when you do. And yes suggestions are appreciated! I need all the help I can get for a 2nd chapter lmfao


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